


Leader

by mechafly



Category: Beast (Band), K-pop
Genre: M/M, all the confused hyunseungs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-13
Updated: 2013-06-13
Packaged: 2017-12-14 20:57:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/841304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mechafly/pseuds/mechafly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beast fic. Predebut. Friendship and leadership.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leader

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written and posted on LJ on 9th June, 2011.

What Hyunseung hates beyond anything is that stage in friendship when you've got past the formalities; they're friendly, friendlier than you, and they've told you secrets. That makes you close, right? You tell him a few of your own, and have a sinking feeling he doesn't get it. But you don't get him either.

Hyunseung tells Junhyung this. Junhyung draws out an amused chuckle, tells him he's drunk. Hyunseung says, "stop," can feel the headache coming on too early, the impending feeling he's about to make a fool of himself. He casts around. Nobody's watching, just Junhyung's eyes casually boring into him. Junhyung sips an ice cold glass of something clear. Hyunseung can tell it's cold because Junhyung's fingers are bright red from where they press into the glass. Junhyung looks at him.

"You really need to relax," Junhyung tells him, frowning as if he himself knows that's not quite what he means. Hyunseung gives Junhyung that at least; he has an ounce of sincerity in him and he knows how to use it well. Hyunseung's grateful for that, just not for the insufferable bastard that's the rest of him. Junhyung coughs, wide-eyed, and Hyunseung realises belatedly that he's said most of that out loud. "You're a bitch when you're wasted," Junhyung informs him, trying, to Hyunseung's increasingly tilting vision, to look unoffended.

"Yes," Hyunseung tells him, accidentally spilling a drink on the chair. Junhyung smirks primly at him and moves a seat away, and Hyunseung forgets all about apologising. "I'm sorry I'm too drunk for you," he says, and puts the drink down before he soaks himself, irritated at the way Junhyung has been arching an eyebrow at every splash of orange liquid. "I'm sorry I'm not... enough," Hyunseung spits out. "I'm sick of trying to be enough for losers like you," and when Junhyung's about to reply, and Hyunseung can feel it pressing on him like being crushed -- no shut up Hyunseung shut up you have no idea what you're talking about just sit there and let other people talk for you so embarrassing Hyunseung just stop okay just stop just stop -- Hyunseung murmurs a, "Fuck off," and gets up to leave. He hears Junhyung scoff behind him and walks faster, heading by instinct for the bathroom. Even if he doesn't have anywhere to be going at least he can pretend he can.

That's the plan, anyway, but Hyunseung ends up totally lost and in some room he doesn't recognise, taking the left turn to the restroom doesn't appear to be the right decision after all, and there's flashing lights everywhere and, worst of all, people. The music isn't even good and Hyunseung can't stand up straight, so he sits down on a bench and stares down anybody who glances at him. He starts to wish he'd kept the drink, especially when his mind wanders to the future. What a future, he thinks, what a future. And then - I'm doomed. And then - I should've talked to Geurim more, given her better advice, been a better big brother, been better. Hyunseung stares down at his hands, which feel sticky from sweet alcohol and smell odd too, and feels cold. I didn't try hard enough.

Doojoon finds him eventually, clapping him on the shoulder to get his attention since Hyunseung doesn't notice him among the throng of bodies passing him. "Hey," Doojoon murmurs, barely audible over the din of the club, which Hyunseung is only just beginning to notice. They sit in silence for a bit as Hyunseung drinks the cup of water Doojoon offers him. Hyunseung looks down at the floor as Doojoon looks at him appraisingly, and wonders what Doojoon sees. How's my hair, Hyunseung wants to ask. Take a picture, it'll last longer. One of those thoughts that doesn't come out right if he tries to say it, and Hyunseung's long since given up trying. Doojoon tilts his head. "You alright?"

Hyunseung nods on automatic, takes Doojoon's proffered hand and is led out of the club through a winding series of corridors -- so it was the left turn, after all, just the left turn from a different room -- and out onto the cold street and smoke-filled air. "Cigarette?" Doojoon holds one out and Hyunseung stares at it for a long moment trying to decipher the message behind it, and Doojoon shrugs and lights it for himself. "Are you seriously alright, though?" Doojoon asks, and what makes it worse is that Hyunseung can tell he actually really cares, from that low tone in his voice to the way he doesn't take his eyes off Hyunseung, the way his mouth downturns as he asks as if he's hoping for one answer, really truly hoping for it, and resignedly expecting the other.

"Does it matter," Hyunseung says a long while after the question is posed, and feels quite a lot dying in him. Because, does it matter? Does it matter if he doesn't answer questions on time, or take the offered cigarette, or "relax"? Should he be trying harder? As much as he tries to strive towards some form of perfection he knows he's so far from it that it's hopeless, you've got to make your own personal gods if you want your hard work to make any kind of sense, and Hyunseung's are ones that people like Junhyung scoffs at, people like Doojoon despair at.

Except Doojoon looks sadly at him and shoulders him into a rough hug, and Hyunseung isn't expecting it. There's never room for things Hyunseung isn't expecting. Doojoon's warm and it's cold out, and Hyunseung's in a thin white tee because that's what Junhyung had thrown at him, grinning and winking, at the start of the evening, and it's cut too loose and lets in all the cold air. And now Doojoon's hugging him and it lets in all of Doojoon's warmth, and press of his rough leather jacket and the smell of smoke in his hair. Hyunseung feels himself go still as Doojoon squeezes him almost painfully hard, still with just one arm in a full ring around Hyunseung's body. Hyunseung hasn't felt this young in a while. Doojoon smells like pine, which makes no sense, so Hyunseung has to lean fractionally forward and breathe it in again. Pine.

"I'll look after you," Doojoon says eventually, gritting out the words addressed the air at the back of Hyunseung's head since he's still holding Hyunseung close to him, and Hyunseung's mind's going warm and fuzzy and remembering how late it is, how tired his body is. "I can feel you worrying, don't. Don't worry. You just do what you... do. I'll look after you," Doojoon says again, as if he's trying to get across something other than what he's saying and not quite managing it. Hyunseung lets his eyes fall closed, this close, there's nothing much to look at anyway except the row of trash bins at the far end of the street they're standing in. "Hyunseung."

"Mmm."

"I'll look after you," Doojoon insists, pulling away a minute amount. Hyunseung nods, and is surprised when he opens his eyes to find Doojoon staring at him, understanding what he means, what it means to have that said to him after all this, everything.

"I don't think you understand how much I like you," he says, and Hyunseung says, "Oh," without quite actually making a sound. Doojoon holds him close again. "I do. So just. I'm not going to just look after myself, or the others, or the company. You. Us. I'll look after us. Don't be..."

Doojoon's voice goes quiet, this melody Hyunseung is only just starting to learn the beat to, one he wakes up in the morning remembering he's dreamt of, but forgetting the dream. He hears rather than sees Doojoon take another drag of his quickly dying cigarette, the rasp of it in his breath. "Don't be sad, Hyunseung," Doojoon whispers. Hyunseung nods into Doojoon's shoulder and the tense warm muscle there, and exhales a sigh.

He's never been aware of someone breathing before, except those buried images of Geurim the pale, blue baby, breathing not-quite-enough breaths into a fitted tube, seen through his own reflection in the glass. Breathe harder. His face a white transparent circle. Mother and Father two black figures swimming back and forth. And now Doojoon's breath, this sympathetic tortured sound. For the first time in a long while, Hyunseung wants to answer. He's forgotten how. So, mouth pressed into Doojoon's skin, he whispers: "Okay."

  



End file.
